Debtor’s Prison
by Moonlight Reflection
Summary: Miroku and Naraku have a conversation about the kazaana, as well as whatever implications it may bring to the table. A series of character pieces spawning from that single event, and its effects on the other members of the group. (Dec 2 - Interlude II)
1. Miroku

Disclaimer: Inuyasha belongs to Takahashi Rumiko.

Debtor's Prison

"You should be thanking me, you know."

Miroku didn't even pause for a moment to consider that before drawling, "Oh yes, of course I should. Why not? Next I'll be thanking you for trying to send countless dangerous – and dare I add _homicidal_ – youkai after me. Oh thank you. Oh mighty one. How shall I ever repay you? Now the only matter is if you would you like that all in writing, or would a verbal confirmation do?"

The strike echoed through the forest, and Miroku wondered through a throbbing cheek if Inuyasha might have heard that. Those dog ears had to be good for something, damn it, and he was of the school of thought that he was quite important. Perhaps he wouldn't go so far as to say that he was the center of the universe – although the more intelligent people realized this right off the bat – but he did like to think that the others might have noticed his unhappy disappearance and were doing something about it.

Unfortunately, knowing Inuyasha, he was probably too busy whining to give much thought to a 'friend's' disappearance, leaving him to the non-existent mercy of the bloodthirsty and mildly dangerous hanyou who was now smiling at him.

It was one of those tight-lipped smiles that pretty much informed the viewer that he was alive only because of the smiler's good will, and that good will was remarkably fickle. Which was something that Miroku already _knew_, but it didn't stop him from being a smart ass. After all, if he backed down now, then what? He was still going to die, so at least he should try to get something out of the entire situation. Granted, he didn't really know what he was trying to get right now, but he was sure that something would come up sooner or later.

He would prefer later than sooner, especially since he had a feeling that Naraku was the type of person who indulged in a delicious variety of tortures when he was annoyed. But that was just a feeling, of course.

"That kazaana has saved your life countless times. For something that you are so frightened by, you really do seem to depend on it," the hanyou continued in a rather patronizing tone of voice. The monk – because no matter how perverted, corrupted, and pretty as much un-monkish as one could possibly get, he still _was_ a servant of Buddha – quirked an eyebrow, not quite sure if Naraku was actually being serious. His expression said that he was. Unfortunately, his words were giving Miroku a suicidal urge to burst out laughing.

"Well, I've never backed away from using something if it's there," the monk replied in an almost cheerful tone. It might have passed if it hadn't reached such a high pitch towards the end, although he was pretty much beyond the point of caring. Besides, Naraku probably already knew that he was of the mind to dig a hole to crawl into for a very, very long period of time.

Of course, the hole Naraku probably had in mind was a grave plot, and that very, very long period of time probably extended to eternity. Unless the half-demon decided to just throw his corpse to the animals, which sounded pretty in-character for the psychopath.

"So I see," Naraku smirked slightly. He would have been better off saying, 'So I hear' in Miroku's lowly opinion, but if there was one thing he figured, it was that Naraku didn't need any more advice to being a complete asshole, seeing that he had already mastered the whole art of it anyway. "One might think that you're almost in debt to me then."

"Considering this hell-hole in my hand is going to suck me up one day, I don't think I need to thank you for anything. And if you're concerned about my usage of it, or whatever imaginary 'debt' I may have racked up in the process, you shouldn't have cursed my family with it in the first place."

Naraku leaned in close, and if his hands hadn't been so pleasantly tied behind his back, he would have shoved him away. Or tried to destroy him with that blasted kazaana that the hanyou was apparently so proud of. Or, at the very least, hit him over the head with his staff – except that was now out of range, but there were some useful sticks lying around. In fact, there were a lot of things he wished he could do but couldn't, so the only thing he could sit there and wonder if this was some type of divine retribution for all those times he had groped women.

Sango would agree, anyway. Well, if she was able to save her anger long enough to notice what was happening, rather than immediately running over to stab Naraku right through one of his blue eyeliner shaded eyes. Which was relatively unlikely, now that he thought of it, and he was perfectly happy with thinking about it because it prevented him from having to deal with the rather unpleasant sight that was right before him.

Inevitably though, he would have to deal with it. If only because Naraku's breath _stunk_.

"You shouldn't have gotten in my way then."

Naraku was too close. Really, really close. And this was inspiring a sensation in the houshi, one that was commonly associated with closely impending doom.

"Are we talking about you as in my grandfather, or you as in me?" he managed to get out. It came out more like a squeak than anything, but he did manage to get it out. Really, for a guy who looked sickly and half-dead, Naraku was rather scary when he got close-up. There was just some type of atmosphere around him, one of the same sickness and death that his pallor suggested. It may have been laughable from a distance, especially with that idiotic baboon skin, but up close it was disturbing and more importantly, dangerous.

Miroku happened to be one of those pragmatic types of people who didn't like dangerous situations. Which was really too bad considering how often he was involved in one of those said dangerous situations, but more often than not, he tried to avoid them. Therefore it was of no surprise that his mind was screaming at him to get away while he still had all his limbs attached, and he would have listened if it wasn't for the fact that all his limbs were currently tied up, making escape a possibility left unexplored.

"Both, I should say," Naraku replied, finally drawing back enough so that the monk would stop squirming so nervously. It was laughable, really, and very amusing. He'd had many people – youkai, hanyou, and human – try to talk their way out of sticky situations, and he'd had many more who just broke apart within seconds. But not often did they do both, and contradictory as they were, it made him look almost idiotic.

But amusing.

"Ah, well. In his defense I'd say that my grandfather was merely trying to save the world, and as for me I'd say that I didn't have much of a choice in this whole matter anyway. But you don't really seem to care about those types of things anyway."

"Mm, no."

Naraku wasn't giving him the tight-lipped smile. He was giving now him the out-right psychotically quiet smile, and Miroku was twitching with enough nervous energy to make an entire army throw down their arms and run for the hills while singing 'walla walla walla'.

"Yes, well. Nice to know we've established that." And there was that high-pitch shriek again. Honestly, couldn't he have some dignity left? Granted, nobody was around anyway to witness this humiliation except Naraku, but the bastard would probably spread the story from this world to Kagome-sama's present time in a heartbeat. And then Inuyasha would laugh. A lot. Quite heartily too. Before trying to kill the other hanyou.

"Then there is still the debt to be paid," Naraku concluded. Miroku laughed nervously, although right now, there wasn't really any other way to laugh. Except not to laugh. Too bad his brain wasn't picking up that point.

"Well, since you're not listening to me, you could believe that," he conceded. Although he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

Naraku was leaning in close again. And although he had already been leaning in much too closely the last time, somehow he managed to get in even closer. This was not something Miroku appreciated. Really, it wasn't, and he wondered if…

… if perhaps he was suicidal enough to bite down on Naraku's tongue, which was now quite happily trying to shove its way down his _throat_.

May or may not be continued, depending on present levels of insanity. Which are relatively high, if one chooses to take this story into consideration.


	2. Naraku

Debtor's Prison – Naraku

I've decided to make this into a series of short character pieces (about 2 pages each), which only serves to prove that there truly is something severely wrong with me. I've also decided to do some things in this chapter that warrant the rating being moved up to R. I doubt I need to elucidate on that point considering what happened in the last chapter, but I will say that it's not going to be graphic. There are also some other interesting things happening in this story that I blame on the rain, but that's a different story.

!-!

If someone had been suicidal enough to ask him exactly _what_ he was doing at the moment, Naraku would not have been able to answer.

This was partly due to the fact that he really wasn't sure, a strange admission from the hanyou. Of course, this meant that the person who had asked would quickly discover that their intestines were a slightly different color than what he had expected them to be.

Also, there was the fact that his tongue was in the monk's mouth, making talk more difficult than it usually was. Luckily, that was quickly rectified when Miroku, probably in a state of blind panic, bit down on the intruder, forcing him to pull back.

He didn't remove his hands from where his nails were digging into the black fabric, and he didn't back away that far either. Their faces were still mere centimeters apart, a concept that Miroku really did not appreciate. But the houshi's feelings or wants were not the issue here – only _his_ were, and the small smile on his face left little doubt in anyone's mind that this was going to play out well.

Naraku had never been the type of person who said 'ow.' He had never been the type of person who would curse wildly at such a little thing, and simply put, he had never been the type of person who would make _any_ acknowledgement that something might actually hurt.

Which it did, but he had learned to hide it. It was instead substituted with a small smile, as if perhaps he harbored some secret masochistic tendencies. He didn't, of course, and that fact was becoming fairly obvious as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a rather disturbing contrast to the smile that was suddenly bearing a distinct resemblance to a smirk. And the person making these observation would quickly realize that it would be highly recommended that he find himself on a different continent than the one the hanyou currently occupied, and to do so with all haste.

Miroku wanted to do that. It was fairly obvious, by the slight hitch in his breathing when Naraku leaned oh-so-close again, and the panic in his eyes that darted to the sides, as if searching for some form of escape. But as much as the monk wanted to get away, and at a speed that was thirty times faster than what was recognized as the recommended limit by the national Sengoku Jidai traffic commission, he couldn't. The only thing he could do was sit there and put all his efforts into not hyperventilating, although passing out seemed like a rather good option at the moment.

For a moment, Naraku simply sat there, watching in amusement as the entire thing carried out. However, he wasn't just watching – he was waiting. He was waiting for something to happen, something to be said, and then this little game could continue on its course.

Because to him, this was a game. This wasn't a matter of life and death – it didn't matter who lived, and it certainly didn't matter who died. All that counted was that he come out on top when the dust settled and the bodies were counted, and nobody else mattered if that was the only thing he cared about. This was a game, and he was the person who was calling the shots. Everyone was reacting to what he did, and he had predicted their reactions so well that it didn't matter what they did. He had expected it, after all.

"Get away from me."

Naraku just continued to smile, "You're not exactly in any position to be demanding anything from this Naraku, I think."

"That's not going to stop me from telling you to get the hell away from me."

"Did they not teach you anything about politeness during your training, holy man?" Naraku asked even as he moved close enough to brush his lips against the monk's neck. His smile widened as he felt the body he was leaning against stiffen and of course he didn't move away as he continued. "Perhaps I can teach you, but you owe me enough as it is."

Miroku didn't say anything. That was slightly unexpected, especially since up to this point the monk had been oddly talkative. But perhaps the panic was finally starting to die down and leave only a numb realization that whatever happened now was completely out of his hands. Now, the only thing that could be done was to endure everything that Naraku had planned, and there were no harbored disillusions of a grand escape or a sudden change of heart. There was only the wait, and Naraku fully intended to make that wait as painful as what awaited at the end of the road.

"Well?" He considered for a moment to bite down hard enough to draw blood, but then decided there would be enough time for that later. "Anything you want to say in your defense?"

"You think that you have any right to judge somebody when you're personally response for the deaths of so many?"

Naraku pulled back enough so that they could face each other, his face a mask of bitter cynicism. "Oh, really? You mean like all those poor souls in the demon exterminator's village, among countless others? What would make you think that I had any responsibility for those deaths?"

"… you bastard," Miroku snarled. It wasn't really a very original answer, nor was it a very good one. But it was the only thing he could think of right now, considering the circumstances, and besides it was true. Naraku was a complete and utter bastard, and it would be doing the whole world a great favor if someone would strike down the hanyou where he stood.

"As much as you may dislike it, holy man, this Naraku have a right to live too. How I choose to do so really shouldn't have been of any concern to your grandfather, and you as well." Miroku was going to say something, but right now, he would rather not let the monk do so. Quickly he freed one of his hands and used it to cover the human's mouth, that strange little smile still gracing his lips. "Perhaps you would like to say that my life isn't worth all those others. But they weren't going to do anything useful with their lives. I was. I would like to think that, maybe, the sacrifice those poor souls made was for my benefit. The strong live, and what they do with the weak is their business and more importantly, their _right_. If you aren't strong enough to do anything against me, why should I go out of my way to make sure that you are all accommodated? I don't. You're all pieces, in the end. Even that half-breed Inuyasha is just a piece, and in the end, none of you are going to matter anyway."

Miroku smiled. And that smile was so random that Naraku actually removed his hand, looking at him with a sort of morbid curiosity that was usually reserved for freak shows.

"And in the end, you're just a half-breed too, aren't you?" Miroku was grinning by this point, and it didn't even matter how the hand that was still wrapped around his arm was starting to dig its nails in enough to actually make it _hurt_. It didn't matter how dead he was going to be after this because this might have been his only chance in a quickly shortening life to put the great _hanyou_ in his place. "Even if you get the Shikon no Tama, even if you manage to change yourself into a full demon and somehow actually rule the world and all that stuff you've got planned, it doesn't change the fact that you're just a half-demon that was born from the corrupted soul of a filthy, weak human that couldn't get laid."

Naraku hit him. It was out of character… too sudden and too abrupt, with no planning and no thought behind the action. There were better ways to make the monk suffer; there were better ways to make him regret ever having those thoughts, let alone being stupid enough to voice them to the one person that could make him wish that he was never born. But all those thoughts were quickly flying away – he hadn't expected to lose control so quickly. Hadn't expected to have the tables turned on him like this.

It was ridiculous, and it shouldn't have happened. And perhaps he hated himself more for that than he lusted for the monk to suffer, but that part he hated was that ridiculous waste of a human that… that he had been born from.

But that didn't matter anymore. After all, the human was gone, and now all that was left was this Naraku. A hanyou, yes, but a hanyou who was strong enough to stand up against full youkais, a hanyou who nobody could kill, despite their very best attempts.

And in the end, wasn't that what mattered the most?

He laughed softly, "Very good, houshi. It's been a while since anyone has done something like this before. But it doesn't change that you are in my debt. You are mine to do with what I please. I may be born from a human, but right now, you belong to this Naraku, and I am going to take back everything that you owe me now."

!-!

It wasn't about the sex, or any physical pleasure that might have been associated with. That was something he left to humans who always seemed to be caving in to such temptations.

No, this was about taking back the control that he had lost, no matter how little time that had been, and paying it back in double.

Paying it back, and making sure that the monk never, _never_ managed to forget it for as much – or as little, depending on how the human chose to play it – time as he had left.

Because it was in moments like these that he was able to forget that perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn't quite as perfect as he could have wished for.

!-!

He wasn't sure how long it took him to pass out, but it didn't take him a very long time to decide that it hadn't been soon enough.

And when he awoke only to find that Naraku was still there, leering down at him with an ugly smile on a face that simply demanded to be wiped off the face of the world, he could only lie there. And stare. Rather blankly too because if he had any thought process left, it was probably focusing on other things.

It was probably focusing on lots of things, none of which he really wanted to focus on. But his brain wasn't listening, and behind that hazy cloud, all he could do was blink up at the hanyou. He didn't even wonder if it was over yet, or what was coming in the future. Because, right now, there was only the present, and that present was so overwhelming that it did not allow him to think about the past nor the future. Instead it focused on the pain, and how much he would be willing to give up in order to get away from all of that.

There was a saying – one that was oddly appropriate for the moment – that he may or may not have ever heard of. Sometimes, in a moment of complete exaggeration, someone may voice the thought, 'I would give up my right hand if only…."

Obviously, this type of loss would not affect a left-handed person very much. And further more, the person voicing these thoughts probably didn't mean it quite like that, but used the hyperbole more as an emphasis on exactly how much they wanted a certain event to happen.

It's rare that it's meant literally.

And in the end, despite the pain, despite the slightly suicidal urges, despite the fact that maybe he had been willing to give up something so important in order to get away… despite _everything_, Miroku discovered that the literal meaning of the saying was really not worth it under any circumstances.

He wasn't sure if he would ever stop screaming.

!-!

I apologize for the abrupt change in POV in that last scene, as well as the vagueness in it. Actually, I apologize for everything in this chapter. Honestly, it shouldn't exist. I suspect Miroku agrees with me quite vehemently on this point.

Next chapter, should it deign to be written – and it should because I've got a rough idea of what the chapters will be – should be from Kagome's perspective. I think. I'm still wavering between her and Inuyasha, but there's something I want to do with Inuyasha so it's more likely that it will be Kagome. Of course, I could write two chapters in Inuyasha's perspective, but my brain hasn't quite wanted to grasp this concept. It's a pathetic thing, really, and I shall go lock it away before it can cause any more havoc.


	3. Kagome

Debtor's Prison – Kagome

It ended up being from Kagome's perspective because the only thing I wanted Inuyasha for was the very beginning of the first scene. Also, of all the characters, I decided that Kagome would be the one who would be least prepared for what they end up finding, so she is the one who gets to suffer me this time.

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Nevermore22: Well… probably the reason why I will never focus on the act isn't out of any intelligent reasoning that it's been done too much anyway, but more of the fact that I cannot write that type of stuff for beans and so I take the shortcut route of writing about the emotional aftermath. :p Kind of cheating, I think, but in a way I've always found that the more interesting thing – how people react to such an event. Well, also I'm lazy. But thanks for the encouragement! It is muchly appreciated, although as I mentioned before, I bet Miroku disagrees rabidly. Ah, well! No one cares for his opinion anyway! ::innocent look::

KeeraSango: I was actually labeled the morbid person back on this exchange I went on… oh well… I understand, anyway. This story is disturbingly morbid indeed, and yet I cannot help but want to continue it. But big words, really? I think SAT preparation all those years ago have infected my writing way too much – it's quite scary. Although I'm not quite sure what you mean by the death part… I don't think I've killed anyone off yet. Did I? Oo;

He smelled the blood long before they heard the scream, and although Inuyasha was quite good at hiding his fears and uncertainties, nobody was _that_ good. So even before anything had been said straight out or any signs had been made, Kagome knew that there was something wrong with their missing companion.

Of course, that was a given. People didn't go spontaneously missing if everything was fine, and after a battle with their greatest enemy, the possibility that the monk had simply decided to go for a pleasant stroll through a field of daisies was lowered even more.

She still wasn't sure how any of this had happened. Things had simply been moving too fast for her to figure out the details, and besides, wasn't it more important to focus on the present predicament rather than how said predicament had come into play? Inuyasha certainly seemed to think so, judging by how tense the shoulders she gripped precariously were as he carried her through the tangled forest at a speed that was probably not safe. But that seemed to be the last thing on his mind, and that single-minded focus on a target that she could neither see nor hear was making her more panicked as the leaves and twigs flew by.

It took her about three minutes after they had taken off to realize that Inuyasha was actually speaking as he ran, not just growling irritably. It took her about three more minutes to decipher what he was saying, and none of it was actually good.

The hanyou, for example, had no idea where he was going.

He could, of course, smell the monk. In fact, he could smell lots of things that made Kagome's stomach churn in nervous knots, and if he had known what she was going through, the hanyou probably would have stopped speaking. But Inuyasha didn't even seem to realize that she was there despite her almost inescapable presence, listening to everything coming out of his mouth, so intent he was on trying to make some type of coherency out of his mess.

From what Kagome could garner, Inuyasha knew that Miroku was in range. He had a fairly decent idea of what was going on, and none of it was very good. But the combination of the two only made him nervous and prone to mistakes, neither of which he could really afford at the moment. He already couldn't tell where he was going because everything seemed to shift directions as soon as he got close, raising the possibility that this was one of Naraku's half-arsed games where the players were often left rather worse off than they had been before the start.

Sango must have been having an ulcer from her perch on Kirara, higher up beyond the treetops. One second Inuyasha would be going north before he would once again seem to hit the invisible barrier that seemed to send the scent to the west. And off he would go until the same thing happened, except this time he was sent on a wild goose chase to the south. And then the east. All in the same general vicinity but it wouldn't stay put, and he was forced to hop back and forth like a demented flea, trying desperately to find an entrance. Poor Sango was probably getting a headache from all the directional changes, and Kagome wouldn't have been surprised if she just stayed put since sooner or later, Inuyasha would probably end up right back where he started. But Sango probably wasn't able to think like that, as she was more than a little more than concerned at the disappearance. The demon exterminator almost seemed to be blaming herself in a rather irrational manner, although she had been in no way the reason for this mess.

Her actions made it clear to Kagome that there was something going on between the monk and the other woman, and under different circumstances she would have been ecstatic. But unfortunately she didn't have time to celebrate; right now, the only thing she could focus on was trying not to throw up, unsure if that was due to the rather erratic movements of the half-demon or the fear she felt for one of her friends.

It didn't take her very long to decide that it was the latter rather than the former.

Kagome didn't need Inuyasha's heightened sense of hearing in order to notice the loud scream that suddenly rang through the entire forest. Up above, Kirara gave an almost startled yelp as the fire cat lurched at the sudden sound, but nobody could hear it. She couldn't hear anything, and that included the thoughts in her head that seemed to just scream right back, repeating the same name over and over again because there was no doubt in any of their minds on exactly who was the one letting out that hellish sound.

If the girl thought that Inuyasha had been moving quickly before, she was quickly showed otherwise when he suddenly sped up, running straight towards the source of the sound. If there had been a barrier keeping them from finding the monk, it was no longer there because he ran straight and steady, picking up speed as he raced towards the target.

The scream was cut off just as abruptly as it had started, and Kagome wasn't sure if she was grateful or even more scared. It didn't seem to deter Inuyasha but for Kagome, the lack of the sound forced her to accept the fact that Miroku might no longer be capable of doing so. And this led to a conclusion that made her shudder, a conclusion that she did not want to accept.

"What is it, Inuyasha?" she asked quietly when he seemed to hesitate. Her voice seemed to shake him out of his uncertainty, but his answer sent unwanted shivers down her spine.

"Blood. Lots of it."

Her grip tightened on the red fur, "Is he going to be okay?"

The words were spoken so softly, so pathetically. They both knew she didn't want to know the answer, but she had to. She had to know if he was going to live, if any of them would ever be able to get through the day. She _had_ to know, no matter how much the answer might hurt her.

Because not knowing would have been selfish. Not knowing would have been childish and… and… and too unreal. Maybe back in the present time, back before she knew that there was a world filled with demons and magic, she would have been able to live without ever knowing. But she wasn't there – she was here, and the rules were different. Reality here involved death and lots of it, and that death would follow her even if she tried to escape it. Even if she was to run back to the Bone Eater's Well and return to her home in order to hide under the covers, she would never be able to live with herself.

Sometimes, it hurt so much knowing that… that really, she didn't need to be here. She didn't have to put herself through any of this, and except for a freak accident that had sent her down the well in the first place, she might have been able to grow up to be a normal person. True, that would mean giving up some of the best friends she had ever found in her life, but in situations like these, it was all too easy to want to give all of that up in order to avoid the pain and death. She had seen too much of it ever since entering the Sengoku Jidai, and she had wished desperately that none of her newfound friends would ever fall victim to it.

She had seen what death did to people. Inuyasha, Shippou, Sango, and Miroku had all lost their families, and they might have spent the rest of their lives being alone if not for each other. They had become the people that they had lost, and to lose each other would have been to lose someone who was much more than a mere partner in this seemingly never-ending quest to find the rest of the Shikon no Tama shards.

Kagome couldn't lose them. She didn't want to, but try as she did, it seemed like the decision was out of her hands.

Inuyasha seemed to turn ever so slightly to look at her, although she still couldn't see his eyes. He had heard the fear in her voice – it was the same fear that he felt now. And although he wanted to say something encouraging – or as encouraging as his personality would allow – he couldn't without lying.

So he didn't say anything. Because sooner than later, they would find out, and there would be plenty to say when that time came.

!-!

To Inuyasha, the small clearing smelled of Naraku, Miroku, semen, and blood.

For Kagome, she could only smell the blood, and it was all she could do to not give into that desire to vomit. She couldn't, however, keep herself from shrieking because the panic she felt had to come out _somehow_, and that had become its chosen mode of exit.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my _god_," she practically screamed the last word as she fell to her knees next to the monk even though that meant kneeling in the blood. _His _blood. "Miroku-sama… oh my god, what are we going to _do_?!"

That last part was directed at the hanyou who seemed to now be frozen, but his lack of response did not deter Kagome in the least as she continued in a high-pitched wail, "Inuyasha, what are we supposed to do? What are we _supposed to do_?! His hand! My first aid kit doesn't have anything that can do anything about this! I don't know how to stop the bleeding and he's going to die if we don't stop it! We have to get him back, we have to get him to Kaede-sama but he can die before we can there!"

Her hysterics changed direction abruptly as a desperate strand of hope floated through her mind and she immediately turned upwards to scream out a name, "Sango! _Sango_! You have to get down here! We have to… Miroku-sama! Don't die, please don't die, it's going to be okay…."

_It's going to be okay…._

He was clearly unconscious by this point, his breathing strained from the pain he felt even now and his skin pale. None of her words would make a difference, none of her fake promises would change the situation. Even as Sango dropped to her side and Shippou shrieked from fear, she kept voicing the same thoughts, the same comforts, the same empty words that were so pointless and ineffectual that she wanted to start screaming about her own deficiencies.

_It's going to be okay…._

She buried her face in her blood-stained hands and started to cry, unable to take it anymore.

Lies. Lies, all of it. Lies that no one could believe, not even the dead.

!-! Author Notes

Too hysterical? Possibly? Sorry about that… I just figured that Kagome would not really be capable of dealing with seeing Miroku, even if she has been in their world for a while. I know that if I was in her situation, I'd just pass out or something….

Originally I had planned this part to get them all the way back to Kaede, but I've decided to leave that to the next character who will probably be Shippou. After that I'm planning on doing an Inuyasha piece before finishing off with Sango, with a mild possibility that Miroku might be coherent enough to have another piece of his own. Depends on how much time I have, I guess, and how it fits into the general flow of the story….

And for some reason, I was trying to figure out one night why Kaiba from YGO didn't have a part. Somehow, while I was asleep, this story became a crossover with YGO that ended up in a grocery store. Yes, I'm quite confused myself… oo;;


	4. Interlude

Debtor's Prison – Interlude

Because a little demon imp made me.

Or really because I thought it might be best to explain the title, as well as exactly what happened since I really was not clear enough the first time through… I guess you could say this is my attempt at making up for that deficiency. :)

Or you can just say that I like torturing Miroku all too much. Honestly, my favorite characters are always victimized, the poor things.

Many thanks to Sashimi-chan, who helped make this scene more readable.

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Nevermore22: Reviews? I think the little demon imp ate them… just kidding! It's nice to get reviews, and yours are among some of the nicer ones I've gotten throughout my disturbingly long fanfic writing career (will reach the 4-year mark in less than 2 weeks! ::so excited::). Anyhow, I'm glad that Kagome didn't come off as too crazy over what happened. I personally think she's a lot braver than I could have been, but I'm a total coward. As for the hand thing, I'm hoping to specify on that in this piece. I think that just between Naraku and Kagome, I was never able to mention it in the most blatant of terms, and it just didn't work. That's the theory anyway, but I bet the real answer is that I'm just too squeamish to write it as it should have been. Will try to correct that in this piece though!

There is no escape from the debtor's prison.

The debtor's prison is not a building, made of mere wood and stone. It is not the rope that prevents one from fleeing the situation at hand. It is nothing so simple, nothing so concrete.

It is more of a… presence, one might say. Not precisely a person, but a presence that is constantly there. Always watching, always waiting, and even if one does not know there is a debt to be paid, the presence remains.

Until the debt is paid, it is as if one's life belongs to the apparition. That little wisp of doubt in the back of one's mind, the constant wondering over something that they might not understand… when will it end? Perhaps never, or perhaps all too soon. It is up to their discretion when the obligation is paid, and in what ways. Payment can appear in a variety of ways – the taking of what was owed, the taking of any other property the debtor may have, the taking of blood. It really does not matter, as long as something of value is given.

And it does not have to all be at once, either. It can be in a series of payments, spread over a lifetime. And really, the debtor does not have any say in the matter. If he did not want to be in this situation, he should have avoided it altogether. Since he obviously did not, one supposes that he has no one to blame except for himself.

Few people enjoy the prospect of being in debt, of spending the rest of their days wondering exactly _when_ the presence will choose to reveal itself. Or, if it already has, then how long it would be before they have absolutely nothing left, for everything had been stripped in order to pay off something that really, they shouldn't have bothered with in the first place.

But then, humans never can help themselves. They see something they want, something they suddenly must have, and they willingly give up their lives in order to obtain it without even understanding what they are getting themselves into. Then they quickly discover that the debtor's prison is not a pleasant place to be in, although it has long been established that it really is not a place. There may be buildings called such, but it is not the same. Because a construction cannot follow one wherever they go – back to their homes, back to their bed, back to their families and ultimately to their grave… nowhere is safe, not when something is owed. Nowhere can there be true escape.

Perhaps the most fascinating, the most remarkable characteristic of the debtor's prison is that it never truly disappears. Even when the debt is finally paid after years of work and sweat and toil, the results are only too stark. Loss of personal objects that once meant so much, loss of youth and health – even loss of limb or freedom – only when life is lost will there be any true escape from the many consequences of the debt.

And that is why I will not kill you, holy man.

Instead, I will simply take back what I gave your grandfather, and what I deem is still mine. You've relied on it for much too long, and it is time you realize what your life will be like without it.

Perhaps you think I am being unfair? After all, what was that I just took from you? Think of it as payment for the time I spent trying to separate you from your… companions.

Hm. I didn't realize you would rather be a whore for the rest of your life.

No? Wrong again? Ah, well, I do not have time to play these games with you. I have spent enough of my time doing so, and as amusing as it was, I do believe your friends are eagerly awaiting your return. I do not know if they shall be so eager when they see the state you are in, but then again, what am I to know about humans?

Now. Don't move. _Don't move._ Do you really think you can escape right now? You are not exactly in any condition to do so, need I remind you. Besides, I suggest that you keep your strength because even I am not sure how much of that you will need right now.

It shouldn't hurt. Much. I have lost plenty of limbs, some thanks to you, and even if you are human I am sure that you should be fine.

Still, I am not quite sure if either of us will be able to survive this. Perhaps when I cut off your hand, the kazaana will merely expand and draw us both in, hm. What irony that shall be.

Why the surprised look? I thought you were a little more perceptive than that, or are you just so good at denial that you did not really listen to the words that I have been speaking?

Hold still.

_Hold still._

If it's not clean the first time, I may have to do it again. And again. Think you have the stamina for that, holy man?

Well, it is your arm.

…

Must you scream into my ear like that?

!-!

Well. That was nasty. I really shouldn't try to do POV, even one as detached as this one, although I wasn't sure how else to write this interlude. Maybe I should have skipped it altogether…. ::slinks away::


	5. Shippou

Debtor's Prison – Shippou

There may be some things happening in this story that are inaccurate – not inaccurate in terms of the anime, but inaccurate in terms of real life. I know next to nothing about amputation although I tried to do some research, but most of that research came out of medical websites (which is vaguely different from having a somewhat rabid psychopath just hack off your hand, I suppose) and I couldn't go too deep into the information in fear of coming across a picture of an actual amputation, which would have led to me screeching my head off and running to the high hills. So no idea how Miroku might have survived all of this, except perhaps that the luck which protects lecherous monks apparently decided to kick in a little bit too late.

In addition, I was feeling pretty relunctant to put up this chapter.I don't think it's as good as the last ones, but I also know that I do not have the will power to go back and edit it out more thoroughly although I already gave it a pretty heavy editing the first time around. This may be me being obsessively paranoid again, as that is usually the case, but I thought it was only fair that I give a warning first....

Reader Responses:

Nevermore22: ::mumbles:: If my head explodes, I am **so** blaming you, my pretty! And your little dog too! ;p

Corrina: Well, unfortunately I think that may be the last of the first person chapters – vague possibility of another one, I think – but I'm glad you enjoyed it. ;p Although truth be told, Naraku scares me mightily.

He was still hiding in the bushes when a hand wrapped around his tail, jerking him off the ground. The kitsune squeaked as he was dragged through leaves and twigs but his captor ignored it, and soon he was finding himself face-to-face with a familiar golden-eyed hanyou.

Inuyasha was not looking… pleased, to say the least. There was no reason to think that he would be, of course, considering what they had found. But right now, the half-demon looked positively murderous, and Shippou had no doubt that the anger would be taken out on _him_ if he said the wrong thing.

Perhaps that fear of saying the wrong thing was what had him so petrified that he could say absolutely nothing at all. Anyhow, whatever is was, he found his tongue absolutely frozen, and when he finally did open his mouth to speak, all that came out was a spectacular squeak.

Mentally, he berated himself fro being so cowardly, but he wasn't sure what else he could have done in the situation. After all, he hadn't been able to do anything when his father died, and in battles he was more of a liability than anything else. A part of him lied and said that by hiding… no, staying out of the way, he had helped the situation a lot more than any amount of wailing could have. But that didn't really change the fact that he hadn't been there for one of his friends, and even if he had been, there wouldn't have been very much that he could have done.

Right now though, Shippou found himself being inspected with the same attention one gave a tree struck by lightning – basically, it was sad, it was worth pitying, but you weren't really sure what to do with it.

He realized, for the umpteenth time, that he really did not like it.

"Oy. We're leaving."

Shippou blinked, but the sudden brusqueness that Inuyasha addressed him brought his tongue back. Sort of, judging by how his voice currently sounded like a chipmunk being crushed by the before-mentioned tree. "But what about Miroku?"

"What about him?" Inuyasha asked even as the hanyou brought down a fist on his poor head. But it wasn't nearly as forceful as it usually was, and while he could be grateful for that, it simply exposed the fact that Inuyasha was worried. And seeing that Inuyasha really was not the worrying kind, this made the situation even more nerve-wracking.

"Is he okay?"

Inuyasha snorted, "You'd know if you hadn't been throwing up in the bushes."

If it had been a different situation, or really any situation other than this one, Shippou would have bit Inuyasha's wrist to make him let go. And then the hanyou would curse wildly and start chasing him around the clearing. Kagome would shriek at him to stop, although everyone knew that it would not stop until a certain spell had been enacted, while Sango and Miroku would.

The thought simply died there. It didn't fade, it didn't trail off – it stopped with a startling finality that shocked even him as his green eyes swept over the clearing that was not occupied by his friends, but instead covered in blood.

It wasn't… it wasn't that he was not used to death. But having experienced it so closely once did not mean that he wanted to ever go through the experience again. And maybe Miroku wasn't his father but the monk had always tried to take care of him. All of them had, when rightfully he should have been youkai fodder by now. That was how demons lived, after all – survival of the fittest, the strongest survive, and the weak simply do not.

Humans, and apparently some hanyous too, lived by a different standard. It didn't matter how weak you were, or how pathetic. You were entitled to help, and although many humans did not live to this standard, most of them did. Most of them, when seeing someone in trouble, would try to help. They didn't take into account that somebody so weak did not deserve to live by nature's rules, or that they were simply giving a useless creature a chance to live. Maybe they understood what it was like not to be as strong as others around them. Or maybe they just didn't realize, or simply refused to. He wasn't sure, really, and it wasn't exactly a topic he thought about a lot.

There was probably a reason for that.

Shippou had no idea how long he was silent, or how long it took for Inuyasha to get annoyed with the silence. But next thing he knew, he was being flipped onto the hanyou's shoulder, and he squeaked and clung to the red fire-rat fur when Inuyasha suddenly took off.

"The others have already gone. They're taking Miroku to Kaede. Sango managed to slow down the bleeding, and between her and that old woman, I'm sure Miroku will be fine."

The kitsune never knew that Inuyasha was this good at lying. But it really wasn't good enough because Shippou knew that he was lying, nevertheless.

Inuyasha wasn't the type who would lie, at least not about the big things. He was too blunt and straight-forward, and it wasn't in his personality to hide things. It wasn't that he didn't understand or didn't care, but he simply thought that it was best to put things out there as they were instead of trying to beat around the bush. Lies, deception, and not telling the whole story, even with the best of intentions, had led to too many deaths for him to ever buy into the philosophy.

And maybe he wasn't really lying, as long as he meant that by fine, Miroku would live. Which Shippou had no doubt would happen, even if such conviction was nothing more than a child's optimism that everything would turn out for the best.

Except no matter how much of a child he looked, acted, and was, Shippou wasn't really one. A child didn't have to see his father die, and a child didn't have to bear witness to a friend's pain. No, those were _adult_ things, and in terms of experience, Shippou was probably more grown-up than most people.

Thus, he was grown-up enough to realize that… well, Miroku would not be fine. He didn't know what had happened to the monk, and he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to. But just seeing the human, and knowing what kind of a person Naraku was… those two things were enough for him to realize that Miroku would never be fine, if by fine one meant 'back to normal.'

There would always be something missing, in more ways than just a hand.

When you lose something or someone, something always goes missing. And if you lose enough of the pieces, there comes the point that what is left cannot sustain itself. Because all there is is just a bare skeleton of a life, but without those things that makes it worth living.

That's the point where things collapse, and you might as well not live at all.

Perhaps that was the ultimate curse of life. That, in the end, it isn't only about your life, but about those around you. Because without the people who cared for you and gave you something to look forward when you went to sleep at the night, there really was no point in waking up the next morning. Why not, instead, just nestle into yourself and lose yourself to the dreams where everything could be pleasant? Why not just lose yourself into a dream that would never end?

Such thoughts were detrimental, and he didn't need them. And he was probably too young to be having them anyway.

But in this time and age, you grew up fast. You grew up because if you didn't, the world was going to keep going on around you, whether or not you were prepared for it or not. That was what had happened – he had been hiding in the bushes, and the others had simply carried on with or without his presence. They couldn't wait for him, as much as they wanted to.

He couldn't hide from the reality for much longer, and as he hung for dear life while the world passed around him, he realized that none of them were ever going to be the same again.

!-!

Miroku woke up, one week later.

By the time Shippou and Inuyasha had reached Kaede's hut, the old priestess and demon exterminator had done their best with the monk, and he was finally asleep. Also known more simply that he was unconscious, but this was a different type of unconscious because it didn't include him screaming despite the fact that he was, well, unconscious (1).

They all took turns watching him, with the general exception of Inuyasha who prowled outside for the entirety of that one week. It was the equivalent, really, but they continued to take turns so that the hanyou could continue to pretend that he wasn't really keeping watch.

Kagome, shaken and more than a little scared, had been persuaded to return to her real world with the promise that Inuyasha would come as soon as Miroku woke up. There wasn't much else that could be done at the moment, and no matter how disturbing the circumstances were, no one could really forget that she was someone who still had a life outside of theirs, no matter how deeply entwined the two were becoming.

And thus the watching was left mostly to the devices of Sango and Shippou. Sango would have been more than willing to do it the entire time, but Shippou insisted that he get a fair turn too. He was, after all, Miroku's friend too. And although there wasn't much any of them could do while the houshi was unconscious, he was still going to try and do as much as he could.

It wasn't really his way of proving anything. He didn't need to prove anything to anyone, not even to himself. But he cared, and that was that.

So when Miroku woke up, one week later, he did so under the watchful eyes of both the kitsune and tajiya.

Commentary:

(1) I once read about somebody who had been stung by a box jellyfish. And, I quote, "Soon afterward, emergency crews arrived, inflated him with morphine, and took him away for treatment. And here's the thing. Even unconscious and sedated, he was still screaming" (Bill Bryson, In a Sunburned Country).

I think I'm just running out of things to say, but instead of saying that, I'm going to _pretend_ that all of this is part of a grand scheme. What that grand scheme is, I have no bloody idea, but I think it has something to do with fleshing out the characters.

However, as I've said many times before, that's just fancy talk for 'I have no bloody idea what I'm doing.'


	6. Interlude II

Debtor's Prison – Interlude II

I wanted this part to be Inuyasha's piece, but what I had planned for it was forcing the storyline (storyline? What storyline?) ahead too quickly. Or perhaps not the storyline, but I didn't really think Miroku could handle that part for at least a week. So at the risk of sounding – redundant, perhaps? – here is another interlude (yes, you are allowed to run away while you still can).

Again, it's in POV, and a ratherstrange one at that. ::sweatdrop::

And in a pitifully self-suffering note, do you know that one of my friends continuously accuses me of cutting off both of Miroku's hands? I swear I have not, for I understand that he needs to grope women and thus requires at least one hand! I am not completely heartless, really… hmm….

Reader Responses:

Nevermore22: ::offers a metal shield… for the bargain price of $200, plus shipping and handling!:: Yes. Er herm. I do have problems. And as for what you did, just look at your reviews! I'm just waiting for my head to over inflate and either burst into little pieces or to just… float away. Forever… until a bird accidentally pops it or decides to eat it. ::coughs:: Anyhow, at least I know I'll always be able to catch up to Miroku, who is probably suffering blood loss. ::innocent look::

!-!

She hates that smile.

It is his way of coping, and she realizes that. They all do, in one way or another, but she is the only one who shows it so plainly.

She never says anything – she cannot. Perhaps that is why she hates it so much… because she cannot do anything about it. No matter how fake it becomes, or how much it reminds her of all that has been lost, she cannot do anything that can change it to the way that it once was.

But that stricken look on her face says it all, and the fact that he does not respond is as if it does not mean anything to him.

It does, but he's at the point that he is not sure how to show it. It means a lot to him, the way she quickly stands and mutters a quick apology, exiting the room before the words can even sink in. But still he says nothing.

He has not said much in the past week.

The smile seems to say enough anyway. It is a mere shadow of what was once there, and a constant reminder of what is now gone. There isn't anything left, and it would be better for everyone if he stopped pretending that there remains some ability for happiness. Because in that single gesture, he both lies and exposes the truth for what it is in such a startling contrast that everyone just looks away, unable to take in the truth.

He's changed so much, and although it is not surprising after everything he had been through, it still hurts them to see those changes. And the smile is simply another sign of everything that has been lost because once, it meant the world to her to see him look at her like that. She would never admit it to him, but seeing that ghost of a smile flicker across his face makes her wish that she could once again see the smile that actually means something.

She wants him back. They all do, but each and every one of them accepts that never will things be the same. They've plunged too far for events to turn back, and it is hard for them to face their losses.

It is hard for him to face his loss too, and not just physically. More than once I have seen him try to grasp her hand, only to realize that he cannot. He forgets too often, the change, and the more he forgets by accident, the more he tries to forget willfully.

He smiles to reassure them. He does it because it is the only thing he can do to reassure them, but he fully knows and accepts that it means absolutely nothing. That doesn't deter him from trying, but it stops him from saying much else.

And he smiles to reassure himself, that he has not so completely been destroyed in a single day. But it grows harder for him to win that battle, and because he cannot communicate that helplessness to the others, it seems that he will lose himself in more ways than one.

It is hard to tell exactly what is destroying him from the inside. It could be one thing, or it can be many things. But since he won't say anything, they're forced to resort to guessing, and it's difficult to tell if any of them will ever hit on the exact thing that may save him from his self-imposed exile.

Is he even willing to be saved now?

Perhaps that is the question to be asking, if anything is to be done. It could be the whole root of the problem, the reason why he continues to grace the world with a smile that is so wrong that he must have noticed by now how much it hurts the others to see it.

Or perhaps not.

It is, at least, easy to tell how much he hates all of this. That may be why he lashes out when he can, and withdraws from the others despite the fact that this is the time he can use their companionship most. But he has no idea how to ask for it, or how to justify asking for it. That, at least, is what I can garner from those few short conversations that we have managed to have when he feels like speaking.

There is a distant look in his eyes right now, one of sorrow as he finally looks up from the invisible spot on the wall to the doorway that she had fled only moments ago. For a moment, it looks as if he will get up and go after her, but that instant quickly fades as he sighs and looks at me, a defeated look on his face.

He is still not ready, and he may never be.

"Gomen nasai (1), Kirara. I think I made her cry again."

All I can give in reply is a soft mew and a slight shift so that I am close enough for him to reach me comfortably. He takes that offer, reaching down with his remaining hand to scratch the area behind my ears. And finally, he smiles – a slow, grim smile that has become more common as of late, but is much more preferable to the ones he gives everyone else when he is trying to keep them from worrying about him. A contented purr and his face seems to lose some of the grimace.

I could never tell why such a small gesture can make humans feel better, but it is also one of those things that I will never wish for otherwise. They go through so much, and events such as this make it all the harder for them to open up. If I can offer something to them, then I will.

He pats me absent-mindedly, and for a moment we just sit there in silence. We do this often, and he does not speak most of the times.

It seems that this time will be of no exception, and so I just lie there and let him do as he pleases. There's an empty, haunted look in his eyes as he relives everything that happened once again. It would be better if he could simply let go, but he is finding it impossible to do so.

He hates that he cannot do what is right for himself, and he hates that he cannot tell them what they need to hear. He hates it so much that he is beginning to hate himself more than anything, and one day, the self-loathing will infect the already diminished smile. One day, that expression which once gave the others hope and enjoyment will mean absolutely nothing at all, especially when it is made by the shell of a human being who feels as if he has lost everything worth fighting for.

I think it would not be so difficult for me to hate that smile as well.

Notes:

(1) Gomen nasai – Sorry, but very politely.

Well. That took me a very long time to write, and considering how short it is, that is a very disturbing concept.

I decided to do this in a Kirara POV, not as much because of the belief that animals are highly observant, but because they're someone to turn to when you're in pain. For me, at least, I've sometimes found it easier to turn to somebody who will be with you unconditionally, rather than try to express yourself to someone who you fear will judge you.

Kirara especially is an interesting character because even if she does judge, she cannot speak of it out loud. For all Miroku knows, she can be thinking about dinner. I doubt that since Kirara is obviously very intelligent, but perhaps the fact that she will try to be with him no matter what allows him to show more of himself to her than to any other character. That is the real reason why I chose her to narrate this scene, although I could always say that she's so cute and just needs to be acknowledged. ;p

Anyhow, again, no idea about the quality of that chapter, as I have absolutely no ability to judge my own works. But in reference to the next part – Inuyasha for sure – I don't know if it will be up next week, or the week after that. My finals are starting surprisingly soon (it feels soon anyway), and I would much like to do well at my first semester of college. So no guarantees, unfortunately.

And I swear these author notes were longer than the chapter. Gyah.


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